Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Of course.
Of course Mik’hail wanted me gone as quickly as possible.
I should have felt something at that. Hurt, maybe. Anger. But there was nothing left inside me. Just a hollow emptiness where my heart used to be.
“Very well.” I rose from the bed and smoothed down my skirt. “Lead the way.”
I followed the man out of my room and down the corridor. Past the portraits of Mik’hail’s ancestors. Past the windows overlooking the gardens where I had once pricked my finger on a rose thorn. Past all the places that held memories of him.
I kept my eyes forward. I didn’t let myself look.
We descended a back staircase I had never used before, one that led away from the main halls and into the servants’ quarters. The air grew cooler as we walked, the light dimmer. Something prickled at the back of my mind—a warning, maybe, a sense that something wasn’t right—but I was too tired to pay attention to it.
Too heartbroken to care.
We reached the garage, and the man held the door open for me.
“After you, milady.”
I stepped inside.
The garage was cold and cavernous, filled with the sheikh’s fleet of cars. My footsteps echoed against the concrete floor. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a harsh, sterile glow.
“Which car will be—”
A hand clamped over my mouth from behind.
I tried to scream, tried to struggle, but something hard and cold pressed against the back of my head.
A gun.
“Don’t scream.” The voice was low. Urgent. “I just want to talk.”
My whole body was shaking. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
“I’m going to let go now,” the voice said. “And you’re going to turn around. Slowly. Do you understand?”
I managed a tiny nod.
The hand released my mouth. The gun stayed where it was.
I turned.
And my eyes went wide.
The man standing before me was nothing like the composed staff member who had escorted me here. His eyes were wild, darting around the garage like a cornered animal. His hands were jittery, the gun trembling slightly in his grip. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold.
But it wasn’t his state that made my blood run cold.
It was his face.
I knew that face. I had seen it years ago, back when Aretha first came to the palace. Back when she had a personal bodyguard who followed her everywhere, a man who watched her with an intensity that had always made me uneasy.
A man named...
Royce.
The same name as the man who had supposedly held my sister captive for over a year.
“Hello, Aurora,” Royce said, his wild eyes fixed on mine. “We need to talk about your sister.”
Chapter Thirteen
ARETHA HEARD THE FOOTSTEPS before she saw him.
Heavy. Deliberate. The stride of a man who owned every inch of ground he walked on.
But to Aretha, those footseps were the sound of reckoning.
Because this man was the one she had come here to destroy.
She schooled her expression into something wan and sober, her hands folded neatly over the hospital sheets. She had considered crying—had even practiced the trembling lip and glistening eyes that had served her so well with Aurora—but she knew better than to try such tactics with the sheikh.
Mik’hail had never been moved by her tears. Not even when they were real.
The door opened, and he stepped inside.
He looked terrible. Dark shadows bruised the skin beneath his eyes, and there was a tightness to his jaw that spoke of sleepless nights and clenched teeth.
Good.
It was delicious to see him suffering, but it was not enough.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
But first, she must exercise caution and patience.
“Your Highness.” She let her voice come out soft. Subdued. “I was half convinced you wouldn’t visit me.”
Mik’hail knew better than to react to the words. Unlike Aurora, who only saw the goodness in her sister, he had always seen Aretha for the woman she was. She was just like him, imperfect, ruthless, and dangerous when crossed.
He studied his former betrothed. “How are you feeling?” She looked weak, but he wasn’t buying it. He had a feeling there was more to her disappearance, and he wanted to make sure that she was not a threat to his kingdom.
Aretha made a show of forcing herself to meet the sheikh’s gaze. “I’m sure you already know the answer to that. And besides...” She swallowed hard. “I think I should be the one asking you.”
“Is that so?”
“I’m sorry, Mik’hail.” Aretha’s voice was quiet. Gentle. The voice of a woman who had nothing to hide. “I’m not blind. I know you’ve always had a soft spot for her.”
Mik’hail’s jaw clenched. A soft spot? That was the understatement of the century. A phrase that failed to capture even a fraction of how much Aurora mattered to him. How much she had always mattered to him, from the very first moment she had curtsied in the throne room and called him akh with that teasing twinkle in her eyes.